Caught in a Jam

If you have done a bad deed in your life and wish to be punished, then you must travel in Mumbai on festival days. The torture that you go through is worse than getting stranded in a Sahara dessert under a hot sun without water to quench your thirst, actually even worse than that. But I don’t think I have done any bad deed lately, I lead a very moral life, tell no lies and hurt no soul, nor carry any tales not even gossip, acting so goodie-goodie that it irritates my naughty friends, in fact, I am presently participating in ‘No Complaining Pledge’ for 21 days!! I am all the time distributing happiness like they distribute sweets at the end of prayers in a temple, (Sometimes, I even distribute free smiles, virtual gifts and hugs on facebook too) still, why do I go through this torture I fail to understand. And all the time I believed that life was fair, it functions according to the laws of Karma I had a change of opinion today when I sat in the bus for four hours (while returning from my otherwise two hour trip from my school at Belapur) wasting my time by just watching the traffic crawl through the crowded streets. I am sure Ganpati must not be happy with the noise that is blaring on the streets that is lighted with million bulbs and people dancing their shaky-whaky dances with their limbs going loose and crazy and changing directions in hip hop way, challenging the laws of gravity. Come on.!!!! Gimme a break!! Whoever has taught them such dances? Do these people just pick up random dance steps from Bollywood flick and make a fusion dance of their own?? I was sitting there in that bus, helplessly, looking out of window (what else can one do?) when all of sudden a dirty stench entered my bus suffocating me and the other passengers in the bus. The lady in front of my seat took her dupatta and wrapped it around her face, covering her nose so tight that her life saving organ might say goodbye to its last breath. I started scrolling through all the emergency numbers on my mobile, she coughed a little, then loosened her duppatta and decided to inhale the bad smell instead. I investigated the source of this discomfort, and lo behold, just parallel to my bus was that garbage van, crawling at the same speed. My attention was now drifted from bad traffic to this stench that was following me. My bus halts, garbage van stops, my bus moves a little and garbage van moves too, disturbing the fresh air, polluting it and pushing it straight through my nostrils. I was now afraid. All this time I was dodging swine flu, I had even started those tiny white pills, twice a day, to prevent the tini-mini-germs from entering my system and here I was, dodging the garbage van…and wondering what disease I might finally die from and whether there would be zero attendance at my funeral or any of my friends would start a fan page for me for condolence on my facebook. I turned my head, away from stench, trying to find empty window seat on the other side, when, all of a sudden, my glance filtered out, through the window, on to the idol of Ganpati across the street. The beautiful face of idol momentarily distracted me and I was filled with affection and gratitude for all the blessing that I felt it sprinkling around me. I smiled at the idol, asking him if he feels good at all the attention that he was getting for eleven days, hijacking the busy city of Mumbai. And I actually saw the idol shrug. What could he do? If only idols could talk, they would put some sense in this human world. Alas! Nobody can!!!